Not A Boy
by Amythynia
Summary: "You are not ready, Galahad. I know you think you are, but you are not." Slash: Gawain/Galahad. Please do not read if M/M offends you.


"I feel you, Gawain." His back pressed to Gawain's chest, Galahad whispered so softly, the older boy almost missed it.

Galahad had slept, protectedly and possessively, nestled under Gawain's considerably larger frame since he was a boy. He had made it very clear at the onset that Gawain was his. Amused by the young Galahad, the others accepted it easily. Why not? The boy was frightened and missed his family terribly. He was miserable, and Gawain had reached out to him, pulling him close.

And had never let him go.

"Want to feel you inside me."

Gawain's breath hitched. He knew this was coming. It was simply a matter of time. Where Galahad's need for the older boy had begun brotherly, or more accurately, fatherly, Gawain's desire for the small wisp of a boy was exactly that, desire, from the beginning.

Galahad was beautiful. Soft black curls messily framing a boyish, wide-eyed face. The boy was always flushed-cheeked and red-lipped from the constant worrying he subjected them to, as he concentrated on a difficult task set before him, in a manner that was, in Gawain's opinion, entirely too adorable.

Galahad was small and lamented that he always would be, but Gawain was always there to assure him that it had its advantages and would serve him well. He was quicker and stealthier than the others. Eventually, he could sneak up on the others, including Arthur, without detection, moving over the ground like a cloud, like a breeze.

His thin body remained soft and pliable longer than the others' had. With Galahad firmly rooted under him in the darkest hours of the night, Gawain relished ghosting his fingers over Galahad's warm skin. He did so unconsciously, and the younger boy lent into the caresses enjoying the attention Gawain always lavished upon him.

Quietly, Galahad often prattled on until exhaustion finally took him, expressing all of the thoughts and emotions that he could not share with the others. Gawain would sooth him with thick, calloused fingers making Galahad's skin tingle.

When he'd cry, Gawain would press gentle kisses into baby-fine hair, sometimes finding the soft skin just below. Galahad would turn and bury his nose in Gawain's neck and return those kisses with swollen, wet lips.

Gawain felt a need, a hunger, for the boy that took his breath away often leaving the older boy breathing heavily, and having Galahad pressed against him nightly became almost torturous.

Galahad never minded or questioned Gawain when he would press his groin into the younger boy, desperately seeking the friction that proved only to make him needier. The older boy would press his lips to Galahad's ear, and begin a slow deliberate pace quickly losing himself in the ecstasy of impending release.

Galahad would cease to speak and burn with a desire that he could not understand until he got older. The short, warm breaths accompanied with moans and murmured, incoherent words that only Galahad could decipher became a nightly paradise which both boys cherished and held secretly in their hearts throughout each day, holding them until nightfall came to find them together again.

But now it was time to take things further.

Understanding dawned slowly in Galahad's mind, as the needs of his body led him to a place that would move the boys to a point of no return.

"You are not ready, Galahad. I know you think you are, but you are not."

"'S ok. Make me ready." He pleaded, his body thrumming, and Gawain was almost undone by the heat radiating off of Galahad's smaller body.

"No, boy. Do not ask that of me, please. I…I am not…" Gawain pushed away from Galahad dislodging himself from the younger boy. "Maybe we should…not…sleep together anymore—"

"What? No! Please!" Galahad gasped terrified. "I will not, Gawain. I will not ask this of you again, just please do not send me away. I…I do not know how to sleep without you…" Gawain lightly kissed away the boy's tears.

"Hush, Galahad. Not going anywhere. Not letting you go…just please do not ask that of me." Gawain whispered miserably.

"But you want to, right?"

"Galahad." Gawain said firmly. Galahad's apology was the nuzzling that made Gawain moan with appreciation. "You are going to make me lose my mind, boy."

"Not a boy." Galahad pouted.

"No, Galahad. Not a boy."

*Would love to know what you think. Any feedback and cc would serve to improve my writing. Thanks, Amythynia. Oh, and spare me the flames. Cheers.


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